


Survival of the Living

by misura



Category: Eureka
Genre: Alternate Canon, Community: older_not_dead, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-14
Updated: 2011-05-14
Packaged: 2017-10-19 09:54:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/199575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Jack is good at playing the hero because he's been raised to think it's what he should be.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Survival of the Living

Eureka, Jack thinks, is a town that makes people grow old before their time.

Sucks the life and youth right out of them - if not their stupidity, which is kind of a pity, because Jack feels that for a town of geniuses, there sure are a whole lot of stupid people around, all of them just waiting to do something that blows things up or makes people turn green or just poses a serious threat to human civilization as it is known. Things like that.

People die in Eureka, not because they're old, but because other people are stupid. Old people ( _real_ old people) in Eureka seem to live forever; they're the ones who weren't just geniuses but also not stupid. They've spent thirty or forty or fifty or more years playing around with science, and they lived to tell each other about it.

Jack looks at the people he sees walking down Archimedes sometimes, the people he sees at Cafe Diem having lunch or dinner or not just a cup of coffee (because Vince doesn't serve 'just a cup of coffee') and he wonders how many of them are going to live to play imaginary tennis.

On bad days, he wonders if he'll get old enough to find out.

 

"Didn't you say this was dangerous?" Jack says, and Stark gives him this look he always gives Jack when he considers Jack's question to be stupid.

They're dangling over an abyss, held by ropes that look out of place and entirely too thin. Jack's rope is a fluorescent yellow that doesn't actually glow in the dark. Stark's is a fluorescent pink that does.

"I don't know - did I?" Stark says, after waiting a moment for Jack to add to his stupid question, or possibly because he's not as cool with this whole adventure as he pretends.

Jack doesn't know if he wants Stark to be a big, fat faker, or if he'd prefer for this whole thing to be perfectly safe. There's a sensible choice here, and a not-sensible one, and Jack likes to view himself as sensible. "Any sign of that ... thingy?"

Stark's helmet hides his mouth, but Jack can picture the half-grin, half-sneer just fine. There's a scientific term for everything, and the term for Stark is definitely 'jerk'. "Nothing on my side," Stark says.

Jack imagines something that looks like a ball of lightning bursting out of nowhere and frying Stark's brains. If this were that kind of movie, now would be the time for that to happen, with Stark having implied there is no threat, nothing dangerous around.

"Nothing here either," he says. "Let's go back."

 

Jack doesn't want Stark to die because he's a decent, well-adjusted human being and decent, well-adjusted human beings don't want for other people to die. It's a human civilization thing.

"I'm not going to order someone to do this, Nathan," Allison says, looking pale but proud and like everything a decent, well-adjusted guy could look for in a woman.

"Fine." Stark doesn't look like a scientist. "I'm volunteering Carter." Stark might look a bit pasty, and he's definitely arrogant, and Jack would like to believe Stark actively, consciously doesn't want for other people to die, but he's not entirely sure sometimes.

"Hey!" he says, which isn't the same as saying 'no'.

Jack is good at playing the hero because he's been raised to think it's what he should be. Serving may have gone out of fashion, a little, but protecting will never go out of style.

That, too, is a human civilization thing.

 

"Getting old, Carter," Stark says, and if Jack hadn't been lying in a hospital bed, he'd consider the comment insulting. As it is, he considers the comment as a potential roundabout way of Stark telling him he's worried for about five seconds, before he decides that nope, it's insulting.

"I did it, didn't I?"

"Did you?" Stark asks. "I don't know - I was a bit busy at the time. Flowers are Henry's, by the way."

Jack looks. They're nice, ordinary flowers. He can picture Henry white-haired and old and smiling, perfectly content to spend his days tinkering with things that are mostly harmless.

"Broken leg, bruised ribs, mild concussion, couple of scrapes and oh - three days in a coma. Quite an impressive list. Got everyone all worried." Stark sounds mildly disapproving.

"Oh, stop it. You're making me blush," Jack says.

Stark mutters something that sounds like "If only," but definitely isn't. "You don't ever think that maybe it's time for an early retirement?"

"And miss all this fun?"

Stark mutters something that sounds like "Idiot," and probably is.

 

For some reason, Stark appears to have appointed himself as Jack's doctor.

It makes Jack wonder what Stark isn't telling him, because treating an idiot (Stark's word, not Jack's) with a broken leg can't possibly be any more interesting than whatever project Stark is working on right now.

Jack's not in any pain either, and anyway, he doesn't think Stark would be the kind of sadist to enjoy Jack's physical suffering in such a blatant way. Poke fun at his intelligence and insult him at any opportunity, yes - actively seek out his company and take pleasure in his pain, no.

"Coming along nicely," Stark says, looking at some chart or another.

"I didn't know you were that kind of doctor," Jack says, for lack of something wittier. It's small talk, of a kind, and he's bored.

Stark makes a show of not paying him the least attention. "What kind of doctor?"

"You know, a _doctor_ kind of doctor," Jack says, only baiting Stark a little bit. (It's a perfectly sensible thing to say; millions of people use the word 'doctor' without thinking 'scientist'.)

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Carter."

Jack gives Stark full marks for 'enigmatic and annoying'. "Seriously, do you have any idea what you're doing?"

"Haven't got a clue, actually," Stark says. "You should drink more water. It's good for you."

 

Jack gets up and about again eventually.

Stark doesn't mention the word 'retirement' again, and Jack doesn't really think about it - he's barely even fifty yet; he's got plenty of life left in him, and for better or for worse, Eureka is what he calls 'home' now.

 

"I'm not going to order someone to do this, Nathan."

And so it's back to saving the world from all the wonders produced by science. Business as usual, really; Jack wouldn't say he's gotten used to it, exactly, but the term 'resigned' comes to mind.

"Fine," Stark says. "We'll keep looking for another solution, then." He doesn't look at Jack when he says it.

Allison looks. "I could - " Jack starts.

"No," Stark says, before he can go on.

Allison doesn't point out that Stark is not in charge around here, hasn't been in charge around here for quite a while now. "Nathan's right, Jack. It's too dangerous."

Stark looks faintly smug. Jack thinks of another three weeks of Stark doctoring him and keeps quiet.

 

Two hours later, the world is still in one piece, more or less.

"So," Stark says, looking like a man on a mission to spoil Jack's evening, "how does it feel not to be a hero for once, Carter?"

There are no good answers to some questions. Jack could come up with a few bad ones, but he doesn't see why he should make the effort.

"No witty comeback? I'm disappointed."

Jack shrugs. "Guess I'm just too tired."

"When I was a student, I think I went for three days without any sleep, once," Stark says. It feels like he's changing the subject. Jack doesn't mind, exactly. "The third day, Henry took away my coffee and ordered me to get some sleep."

Jack wonders in what way the anecdote is supposed to needle him. "Sounds like Henry," he offers.

Stark sighs. "Go to bed, Carter."

 

Jack lies awake, staring at the ceiling and tries to picture himself twenty years from now, playing tennis.

If this were a dream, he figures he'd be playing against Stark - since he's awake, his imagination just doesn't appear to be up to the job of giving Stark another twenty years.

Plus, he and Stark aren't friends, exactly. They've worked together, they've faced death together, they've saved each other's lives and the world together, but Jack's never thought of Stark as a friend.

He never thought he'd want to.

 

It feels strange, to walk through the halls of Global without his uniform. Technically, he's possibly not allowed to be here, but they let him in 'to see Doctor Stark' without making any sort of fuss, and Jack's never been in the habit of looking for trouble, much. He doesn't need to, in this town.

Stark's laboratory looks - well, it looks sort of normal, as far as laboratories go. Jack had been expecting something bigger, with more computers and blinking lights and strange-looking equipment.

He needs to clear his throat three times before Stark notices him, and then he ends up feeling a little awkward. "Hey."

Stark arches an eyebrow. "What's the problem, Sheriff?"

"What? Oh," Jack says. "No problem. Just wanted to see if you wanted to maybe go - I don't know, do they have a movie-theater here?"

Stark arches his other eyebrow.

"Lunch," Jack says. "We could do lunch. I mean, you eat, right?"

"Is that a question?" Stark asks.

"Let's just ... do something together," Jack says. "Take the day off."

Stark rises slowly. He's not arching any eyebrows anymore though, so Jack considers it a bit of a victory. "I guess I could do lunch."


End file.
